Your Stories Don’t Define You, How You Tell Them Will

I woke up the other day inspired to write a blog post encouraging people to really re-think their holidays this year, to avoid trying to make them feel “normal”, and stressing out over obligations they cannot meet.

Madly typing away, I knew I was on to something important, inspiring even!

For some reason, I saved the article without sharing or posting it anywhere.

When I woke up the next day, I was faced with two struggles:

1. Our major kitchen remodel would be delayed again, and we will not be back in there for Thanksgiving, and
2. I received an email that made me uncomfortable, and had to acknowledge something I didn’t want to see in myself, something I really don’t love.

It was tempting to hunker down and immediately get to work, even though I knew I wouldn't be inspired or productive, mostly spinning my wheels and finding opportunities for distraction.

Instead, I forced myself to put on my hiking boots and take the dog for a long walk. I knew if I could get myself outside for a little while, I'd be far more productive for the rest of the day.

I was right.

As I walked in the snow in the crisp, clear air, I realized the tone of my article was too “preachy.” It happens sometimes when I have an idea I really want to share, an idea I believe will make a positive impact on people.

But I know better than to write and speak about things as if I’m separate from them, that if I want to have an impact, the lesson has to take the form of a personal story. Understanding why I didn’t post the article helped me realize that THAT was the thing I didn’t want to see in myself. I had been in the mode of advising, rather than coaching, when I clearly needed to be the latter for that situation.

Finally feeling more clear headed as I walked, I realized that because of the disappointment of the delayed house project, I had a perfect story to share to make my point about rethinking the holidays this year.

Our Thanksgiving and Hanukkah have always been pretty low-key. We’ve lived at least 750 miles from our nearest family member since we moved to Montana 21 years ago. Even so, the holidays can be stressful for me, when it comes time to acknowledge our family with gifts that are meaningful, especially because we live so far away and don’t see each other often.

I recently recorded an episode of Unapologetically Bold, I’m Not Sorry For... with Emily Elrod, and we talked about removing the word “should” from our vocabulary. This was in the context of internal “shoulds”, like “I should go to the gym” or “I should eat a salad instead of these potato chips.” And also our external “shoulds” like “you shouldn’t eat those potato chips” and “you should change your oil every 5,000 miles!”

Should can be condescending, but worse for me is how it is associated with obligation.

Anyone who has gone to a family Thanksgiving dinner that they really didn’t want to go to understands obligation. What they might not realize is that the people at the table know you’re feeling obligated and that you don’t really want to be there.

What do you think that does to your relationships? Obligation is the precursor to guilt, neither are good for relationships.

But how to we back out without making things worse?

Imagine that you’ve invited a close friend over for dinner, and she shows up but obviously doesn’t want to be there. She thinks she’s being subtle, that you don’t know, but of course you feel it. She felt obligated for one reason or another, and here she is. Do you notice her distance? Does it bother you that she didn’t feel like she could say something to you, to cancel or postpone the date? Or do you relish in her feeling obligated, does it make you feel good that she came only because she had to, not because she wanted to? I doubt it.

What if she said: “I can’t join you and your family for dinner, it’s uncomfortable for me, too chaotic. I’d like to have dinner with just you so we can really connect. Is next Saturday okay?”

She’s being honest about her discomfort, and though it’s a little painful that your family creates discomfort for her, aren’t you grateful for her honesty? Plus, she’s not making up an excuse, and she’s asking for a specific time – with the specific intention to spend time with you, as opposed to saying “raincheck?”

Here we are, heading into holidays full of “should”, obligation, and guilt.

I had a grand vision of Thanksgiving in our home in our newly renovated kitchen. We’ve spent 20 years in the house and have done a lot of critical projects inside this 1890 Victorian in the mountains, but we hadn’t touched the kitchen......

Marcela Niemeyer has always been an achiever, driven to be the best at whatever she sets her mind to do. In some families, that can create conflict, particularly when a parent doesn’t have the same drive, and cannot understand why a child would put so much pressure on herself to meet and exceed her goals.

But Marcela’s father understood her. He knew that if she gave up on something, it would haunt her for many years, that she would face regrets and those “what if” questions for decades.

She was miserable in those first few months of her senior year of high school, studying abroad in the United States, thousands of miles from her home and family in Brazil. It’s not because she didn’t fit in, or she wasn’t making friends. What made her miserable was that she was working so hard in academics and sports, and not meeting her own expectations of achievement.

Marcela was starting from scratch when she decided on track & field, her sport at home was swimming. Her placement in the group was the lowest of the athletes, and she wasn’t used to starting at the bottom.

Academics were a struggle too, and for the first time, she saw low grades that crushed her confidence. She called her father: “I want to come home.”

He told her she couldn’t come home. He was adamant that she stay and work through the challenges. He absolutely refused to let her give up, despite her desperate tears over the phone.

As I heard this story, I was moved to tears. I’m a parent, and I know the sacrifice her father made to say those words, to turn away from his child and tell her no, she must continue to struggle. There isn’t much worse for a parent than to witness that pain and not be able to - or to know better than to - fix it for your child.

She’s driven, and her father knew she’d figure out what to do next to make life bearable. Marcela worked hard to improve, finishing the year at the top of her team, and graduated with her class, her mother and father traveled from Brazil to watch her cross the stage and receive her diploma.

Her whole life follows that course, trying things others might be too afraid to attempt, full of curiosity about herself and the world around her, and in a constant state of learning and growing. She’s a force of life.

Enjoy learning more about Marcela Niemeyer, you’ll love her stories, her tenaciousness, and her love for life and people.

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Marcela Niemeyer has decades of experience in a variety of HR roles, and is currently on the lookout for her next adventure.

Connect with her on LinkedIn to learn more about her adventurous spirit and her gift for bringing people together, finding the diamond in the rough, no matter where she sits.

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About Sarah:

In my work with coaching clients, I guide people to improve their communication using storytelling as the foundation of our work together. What I’ve realized over years of coaching and podcasting is that the majority of people don’t realize the impact of the stories they share - on their internal messages, and on the people they’re sharing them with.

My work with leaders and people who aspire to be leaders follows a similar path to the interviews on my podcast, uncovering pivotal moments in their lives and learning how to share them to connect more authentically with others, to make their presentations and speaking more engaging, to reveal patterns that have kept them stuck or moved them forward, and to improve their relationships at work and at home.

The audiobook, Your Stories Don’t Define You, How You Tell Them Will is now available!

Included with your purchase are two bonus tracks, songs recorded by Sarah's band, Spare Change, in her living room in Montana.

Michael sat with his mother when she went to the hospital for breast cancer treatment appointments. He was struck by the compassionate care of her doctors, the fact that they treated her with dignity, kindness, and as if she was far more than a patient or a diagnosis.

He was in high school at the time, and had all kinds of ideas about what he wanted for his future. That experience, though, gave him the inspiration and motivation he needed, and he signed up for pre-med classes the following semester.

When he graduated from high school and started school at Carroll College in Helena, Montana, he was well on his way toward his dream - he would be a doctor.

Michael Fuller and I have been friends for years, thanks to my introduction to his parents. I've always found both Michael and his brother, Joshua, to be thoughtful, considerate people, and that isn't at all surprising, given what I know of their parents.

As he's grown into himself and his future, we've taken opportunities to go for long walks together, sit in coffee shops, and even have a beer together (after his 21st birthday, of course), and have had deeply thoughtful, insightful conversations.

It occurred to me that his story is one many can related to: The decision to go into a specific area of study and work as a result of watching a loved one go through a difficult situation.

You'll hear that Michael finished his bachelor's degree and has been accepted into a few medical school programs. He hasn't decided yet where he'll go. I know that whatever his future holds in terms of a career and location, he will contribute an extraordinary amount of courage, kindness, compassion and healing to those fortunate enough to find themselves in his care.

And if I'm lucky, I might just get a hold of his brother for another episode of Your Stories Don't Define You.

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About Sarah:

In my work with coaching clients, I guide people to improve their communication using storytelling as the foundation of our work together. What I’ve realized over years of coaching and podcasting is that the majority of people don’t realize the impact of the stories they share - on their internal messages, and on the people they’re sharing them with.

My work with leaders and people who aspire to be leaders follows a similar path to the interviews on my podcast, uncovering pivotal moments in their lives and learning how to share them to connect more authentically with others, to make their presentations and speaking more engaging, to reveal patterns that have kept them stuck or moved them forward, and to improve their relationships at work and at home.

The audiobook, Your Stories Don’t Define You, How You Tell Them Will, will be released in mid-November, and for a limited time, the ebook is just $0.99!

As a special bonus for listeners, the book will include two songs recorded by my band, Spare Change, in my living room in Montana. Keep an eye out for announcements through LinkedIn and via my Elkins Consulting Facebook & Instagram pages, or visit my website to learn more.

Everyone has a story, and I mean everyone.

“When the guy came to deliver our new washer and dryer, he kept looking at me like he wanted to say something, like he knew me. Instead of just letting it go, I asked him if he grew up here, or if he was from somewhere else. Most people around this town aren’t from here. He said he was from northern Virginia, so I asked where he went to school. That’s when his eyes lit up: ‘You were my teacher! I knew you looked familiar but I couldn’t place you!’ I couldn’t believe it, I was so happy as a flood of memories came back to me. He was such a sweet kid, of course I remembered him. I said: 'Yes! Ryan! Now I recognize you, you’re not the little boy I taught anymore. How is your sister?'”

"We had a wonderful conversation and caught up. He told me about his sister, I remembered she was having some reading problems because of an eye condition, and then he told me the story of how he ended up here.”

It was one of at least a dozen stories like it that my aunt, my father’s sister, told me when she visited. Each of her stories would start with something like “when we moved and needed to..., we met the nicest person!”

My uncle, who is far less exuberantly friendly, would shake his head, and with a small smile on his face he mumbled: “You always say that.”

Having my aunt around was a welcome reminder of my father. Until this visit, I never realized how similar they were, and now that my dad is gone, having her around gives me a sense of his presence and keeps his memory closer. It was an awesome visit, we took long hikes together, took time to explore this little town, and ate outside together, constantly sharing stories.

It wasn’t until after they left that I started to think about the way my aunt would tell a story of a contractor, delivery person, or someone else they met when they moved from Virginia to Arizona. My uncle was right, my aunt always had a story to share about the people she met, what they had in common, something interesting the person shared, the kindness they showed toward her and my uncle. Almost every story ended with “they were SO nice.”

It’s months later, and those stories are still with me. I realized that she almost always has these stories of people she meets when we have our marathon phone calls.

It’s not that she is a magnet for interesting, kind people, it’s because she is interested and kind that nearly everyone she meets demonstrates those qualities. People are interesting to her because she demonstrates curiosity and care when she asks questions. People are kind to her because of her kind, open nature. She expresses curiosity instead of judgment when someone does something she wouldn’t do, and when she tells these stories she tells them from a place of observation and thoughtfulness.

Our major kitchen remodel began a couple of months ago when I reached out to our local bank to ask about refinancing rates. I went straight to the broker who served us three years ago. I had done a little research to find out typical, current interest rates, but I didn’t bother applying through anyone else. We had a relationship. I knew I could trust her, that she would do her very best to get me the best rate, and that she would have everything in place for the closing, which means less stress for me and my husband. She has great stories to share about her son who is a musician, and the funny things that happened when she and her husband started a similar project.

The company I reached out to for the electrical work is owned by a couple I met while kayaking on the Missouri River. When I called, the woman I met was grateful that I remembered them, and though they’re swamped right now, like all the other good contractors around here, she said she would fit our project into the schedule.

The evening after I met the electrician they sent to do the work, I was telling my husband how kind he is, that he has a degree in something related to wildlife biology from the University of Montana, and that he spent the last many years living on an Indian reservation, where he went to become a certified electrician. I told my husband about his daughters and that he was thrilled to be invited to take a bagful of apples from our trees so he and his youngest could use their new dehydrator as an evening activity – quality time.

That evening as I spoke to my husband about the electrician and mentioned how kind and interesting he was, I saw the same small smile cross my husband’s face as I saw on my uncle’s face. He didn’t have to say anything. The smile said: “You always say that.”

You won’t be surprised to hear that I’ve had many stories since then about the people working with me on this huge project. I’m acting as general contractor, and all of the service providers have had to be patient with me as I figure things out.

From the woman at the city who is handling the permit ...

Jeff Furman is an extraordinary combination of his parents. He has the gift of intense observation of people and surroundings, while also demonstrating significant empathy. The two together allow him to predict student behavior in the classroom, making him a highly effective educator.

He shared a story of clarity: Watching his girlfriend (many years ago) standing in the shallows of the ocean, hesitating to dive into the large waves, he had an insight as he observed her stepping forward and then stepping back. He asked "are you the child of Holocaust survivors?" She was.

How did he know that? Because his parents were fiercely protective of him, his mother was especially fearful of potential physical harm, and he recognized the effects of that kind of upbringing in his girlfriend.

This conversation was especially fascinating to me because of how his parents differed in the way their protectiveness was demonstrated in their words and actions. I was also highly curious about how Jeff sees the current impact of growing up like that on his life now, as a near-retirement aged professional.

We discussed current research around generational PTSD, and I mentioned an episode of this podcast featuring Rajkumari Neogy where we referred to the studies around intergenerational trauma and epigenetics.

If you're a regular listener of this show, you'll be especially pleased to hear Jeff's answer to my standard request: Tell us something about yourself that most people probably don't know. Hint: It's another musical reference!

Our conversation included a lot of references to the music that lights Jeff up, history related to WWII, and a few locations in and around New York City. Here are some links to satisfy your curiosity:

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A few notes from Jeff:

This is a 7-minute mini-documentary with Suzanne Vega that I’m sure you’ll like. She’s filmed in a cab in Manhattan on her way to the Fast Folk pasta dinner, where she is talking about how she is a little afraid of performing a new song in front of Jack Hardy and his peers, who will give constructive criticism. I met Jack Hardy also when he played at our college, and when I moved to Greenwich Village in the 80s, I got to spend some time with him. A lot of the singer-songwriters I interviewed were part of his circle. He was a very talented songwriter and very good singer and performer, but he became more known especially for helping providing the venue (Fast Folk) that others spring-boarded from, especially Suzanne Vega, Lucy Kaplansky, The Roches, and Shawn Colvin. I loved all these talented people and it was a very rich experience for me meeting and interviewing them for the Bergen Record (leading New Jersey newspaper) and Performing Songwriter Magazine. Publishing these articles helped me get my first book contract.

https://youtu.be/2TzVQOjfE_U

Here is Tom Russell performing the song he wrote: “MANZANAR” about the Japanese internment camp, from the perspective of a Japanese American who was imprisoned there after the attack on Pearl Harbor. I selected this song from Tom’s albums for the interview I did with him for Performing Songwriter Magazine.

https://youtu.be/0BW3rFEdCxY

And my favorite of all the folk groups part of the Fast Folk scene was The Roches (3 sisters: Terre, Suzzy, and Maggie Roche). I think this is one of their best songs/videos: “Mr. Sellack.” It captures their writing, singing, humor and charm really well.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mQMwU3TrVE0

Connect with Jeff on LinkedIn, visit his website, and check out his series of project management books here.

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ABOUT SARAH:

"Uncovering the right stories for the right audiences so executives, leaders, public speakers, and job seekers can clearly and actively demonstrate their character, values, and vision."

In my work with coachi...